


Spell On You

by blueb1rd



Category: Glee, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-29
Updated: 2011-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:49:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueb1rd/pseuds/blueb1rd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>drabbles and minifics set in gameboycolor on LJ's and my Kurt/Blaine Go To Hogwarts 'verse</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Don't Know What I'm Doing

**Author's Note:**

> you can read more tidbits from this 'verse in RP form [here](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/llg_au/tag/spell+on+you+%27verse)

Usually Kurt watches with clinical detachment as his bludgers hit their desired target. There's a certain sense of self satisfaction that accompanies the unpleasant sound of iron connecting with flesh and bone. It meant he'd done his job well, achieved a desired goal.

Today, however, he can't help the grimace of sympathetic pain that washes over him as he views the resulting injury to Blaine Anderson's arm. The Hufflepuff captain had been getting far too smug (oh, who was Kurt kidding? Anderson had been _smug_ for years.) and far too close to winning. Kurt had had no choice, really. He was a beater, that's what they did - they beat.

But that annoying little twinge of guilt wouldn't go away, even hours later when a win had been secured and the game was long since over. It nagged at his conscious as he tried to sleep, shifting restlessly on the bed in an attempt to get comfortable. _Ugh._

It was all Anderson's fault, of course. He'd somehow manage to worm his way into Kurt's brain over the past two years and seemed likely to _stay_ there, despite Kurt's determined attempts to dislodge him. It was that smile. That stupid, sunny grin that seemed to be a perpetual fixture on the other boy's face. Kurt shouldn't have find it charming, but he absolutely does and he hates Blaine all the more for it.

And now, ugh. Now he knows he's not going to be able to sleep until he does something about the sense of contrition over being the one to wipe said grin off his face. He huffed and frowned, giving up on sleep in favor of rolling out of bed and slipping on his robe.

Blaine, he knew, was spending the night in the Hospital Wing while his arm healed. Kurt slipped out of the Slytherin commons and through the corridors, careful to stick to the shadows in case Filch or any of the professors were hanging about. Eventually he found himself standing over the Hufflepuff's cot, questioning what the hell he was even doing.

Too late to turn back now, he supposed. If he did, he'd never get to sleep.

"Anderson," he softly shook the other boy's shoulder. "Anderson, wake up."

Blaine stirred, making quiet sleepy sounds, and eventually cracked a bleary eye open. "Hmmgh?" He mumbled unintelligibly, eyes eventually finding Kurt and brows knitting in confusion. "Hummel..? Wha--"

"I'm sorry about your arm," Kurt blurted out before the other boy could get another word in. "It looked... unpleasant, and I'm sorry."

"S'okay." Blaine looked more confused than ever. "S'part of the game. S'okay."

Kurt nodded, the line of his shoulders visibly relaxing, his conscious eased. It was still incredibly awkward, but at least he'd be able to sleep now. "Well..." he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "That was all. You should probably rest up. ...Good night."

"Um, yeah." Blaine's voice was still thick with sleep and obviously still not certain what was going on. "Thanks, I guess. G'night."

Kurt turned, moving towards the exit, and paused. He honestly had no idea what had come over him, but he found himself retracing his steps to Blaine's bed, and the next thing he knew he was bending down to brush his lips against the other boy's cheek in a lightning quick peck. Blaine's cheek was warm and slightly scratchy with stubble, and he smelled... good. Nice. Like spicy soap and clean boy.

Kurt flushed and jerked away abruptly. Seriously. _What the hell was he doing?_ He shook his head and scurried out of the hospital wing without looking back once. He really had to get some sleep. Maybe he'd wake up and all this would just be a really bizarre dream.

...And hopefully Anderson would come to the same conclusion.


	2. There Might Be A Troll In The Dungeon But That Doesn't Mean There Can Be One On Your Report Card

Kurt didn’t know why he cared, really. From a logical stand point he shouldn’t. If Blaine Anderson wanted to troll out of his classes that was his own problem, it was of no consequence to _Kurt_.

Except, somehow, the Hufflepuff had managed to worm his way into Kurt’s head, under his skin, dangerously close to his heart. So Kurt cared. It legitimately _bothered_ him that Blaine wasn’t doing as well as he should have because he was too busy doodling hippogriffs with ridiculous accessories to pay attention and take notes. Merlin, it was a miracle he hadn’t brewed something _deadly_ at this point, given how little attention he seemed to pay jotting down proper ingredient lists and instructions. The boy was lucky to be alive!

And even more lucky that Kurt, for some reason, felt compelled to look out for him.

It was lunchtime in the Great Hall and Kurt found his steps taking him towards the Hufflepuff table. He was _intensely_ aware of the curious eyes on him and the color rose in his cheeks, but he kept his chin up, face fixed in a lofty, defiant expression. He didn’t care what these idiots thought. ~~Much~~.

“Here,” he stated gruffly, finally coming to a stop in front of Blaine. He dropped a neat stack of parchment on the table top and pushed it towards the Hufflepuff. “Copies of my potions notes from the past two weeks. You’re not to share them with anyone else, but...” he shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting from side to side before leaning forward and lowering his voice because _Merlin’s bloody beard_ , this was embarrassing. “I wanted you to have them. ...That was all.”

Satisfied that his work had been done and without waiting for Anderson’s reaction, he gave a curt nod and turned, striding out of the Great Hall with all the grace and dignity he could muster.

...At least until he had turned the corner and was able to drop the act and scurry back to the safety of the Slytherin dormitories, where he could flop on his bed and stare up at the ceiling and dwell on his stupid life decisions.


	3. The Way Things Are

Kurt Hummel had been in a foul mood for over a week,, ever since that stupid incident with that stupid Hufflepuff. It turned out knowing what Anderson’s lips felt like made him want to drag the other boy to a broom closet and kiss him more than just _wondering_ what they felt like did. But he couldn’t. Because Anderson didn’t _want_ him to unless he also agreed to do all manner of ridiculous things - hold hands in the corridors, catch lunch together at The Three Broomsticks on Hogsmeade weekends, go on picnics, attend school functions together.

All of which... all right, it didn’t sound _entirely_ unpleasant. But that didn’t mean it was possible! Someone had to be sensible about things, a task that had clearly automatically fallen to Kurt, because Blaine just wasn’t cut out for sense. They two boys came from different backgrounds, different social circles, different houses, different _worlds_. They couldn’t just throw caution to the wind and expect to live happily ever after in some kind of Hufflepuff-esque fairy tale.

That wasn’t how life worked.

Life was Kurt dating a _Slytherin_ , because that was the sort of person he would inevitably end up with out in the real world, where it wasn’t acceptable for someone like him to date a mudblood or partbreed. There was no point getting attached (not that he _was_ attached) to some uppity halfblood when he was well aware that, in the end, nothing would come of it. He had a reputation to uphold, not just his but his _family’s_ , his _bloodline’s_. He wasn’t going to forget that. He wasn’t going to forget what had happened to his mother, and where the blame for it lay. And he was tolerably certain Anderson wasn’t going to let go of his own beliefs, ridiculous as they were.

It was best that things just stayed as they had always been - keeping to their respective social circles, on opposite sides of the dungeon, the Great Hall, and whatever classroom they happened to be in. It might not have been the happiest option, or the most fun (or whatever else Hufflepuffs valued over common sense and decorum), but it was the option Kurt had to take.

Things had to stay the way they were.


	4. I'll Follow You

As Kurt left the flock of Slytherins and made his way across the Great Hall, searching through the assembled crowd for a familiar mop of curly brown hair, he didn’’t feel brave. He felt like a lunatic. This was the stupidest thing he’d ever done. He’d been offered safety, the chance to get out while he still could... and yet there he was, turning it down.

His heart was pounding so loudly he was certain everyone could hear it, cheeks flushed, but he kept his head held stubbornly high. He knew there were eyes on him - he was the only Slytherin student to have broken rank. The only one stupid enough to stay behind and... and fight.

His stomach heaved at the very thought.

But whatever the outcome, even if it meant the end of his life before it really had the chance to begin (and he had no illusions about that - he knew it was more than probable), as he found himself standing in front of Blaine he couldn’t find it in himself to second guess. He’d spent so long fighting his feelings, but the fact of the matter was that underneath it all he _loved_ this boy. He’d made his choice. If Blaine was going to fight, then Kurt would fight with him. It didn’t matter if Blaine still wanted him or not, didn’t matter if (on the off chance that they _did_ survive this encounter) they ended up together. Someone had to keep Blaine safe through this thing, and he didn’t trust anyone else to do it.

“Afternoon, Anderson,” he quipped quietly, the shaky note to his voice belying the air of confidence he’d attempted to adopt. “Thought you could use a bit of help.”


End file.
